The Lion King
VANAGOR RESIDENCE
CITY of HEAVENHEIM, MIDVINTER
CITY of HEAVENHEIM, MIDVINTER
The Vanagors had received a royal visit every day since the birth of the triplets, the aged High King taking immense pleasure in doting on his "grandchildren" just as he would all his many descendants. The giant was on the floor now, playing with the tiny trio after having introduced them to a collection of wooden toys carved by his own hand, safe to handle as well as chew on. Nothing on this world or any other could bring him more joy than interacting with children of all sizes, for he knew the hearts of little ones as intimately as his own. To someone who never had a childhood to enjoy, it was a cause most sacred and more pressing than the running of a kingdom.
Outside raged a howling storm, freezing and hostile, whilst within the halls of Vanagor in the comfort of the hearth, on a cosy fur rug, did the Lion let himself be climbed all over by the clan's littlest cubs. They pulled on his shirt and tugged on his beard, eagerly exploring their ginormous playmate, all under the watchful eyes of their proud parents. The pooch Buster was all too happy to join the fun, nuzzling and pawing the small pink humans wherever able.
"Doo-do-doo-do-doo," sang Thurion in a high-pitched voice whilst making the toy animals all dance in a circle with the slightest use of the Force, drawing the amazement of the triplets who all cooed and giggled, clapping their hands in delight before inevitably disrupting the dance by way of knocking them over.
The moment Lira approached, he knew what it meant. "Pwease, just a wittle wonger," the old man pleaded on their behalf. "We're not tired yet..."